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He stares at the camera, all the hate in the world shining in those blue eyes. His jaw is locked tight, teeth clenched under a clean-shaven face. His dark hair is longer, curling at the ends, framing his younger face.
Bayne Leaves Court Victorious after Murder Trial
Chapter Eight
Kitt
My heart lurches to my throat. I take another sip of tea, swallowing it back down. It falls to my ribcage, which is beating hard against my chest.
I skim the article as fast as I can for necessary information, knowing my time is limited and I need to get back to my young cod before Fiona sniffs something is up.
Finger hovering over my mouse to close the search window, my eyes rove back up to the header. So that’s his name. Opening a new search page, I plug the name into YouTube to see how it’s pronounced.
KAY-lin
I whisper the name out loud, claiming it, feeling the way it rolls from my tongue. “Cailean. Cailean Bayne.”
Cailean. Catherine.
So similar.
I only let our two names roll around in my mind together for one second. Too long for any sane person, but at least I cut the moment of madness off there.
I don’t need to read much more to get the idea of the article.
He may have been cleared by a jury, but the firebomb on the research center wasn’t his first time being involved in murder.
The jury was hung, indecisive. I’m not. From what I’ve read, the man sounds guilty.
Here the laws are different, and the judge decided that if ten could come to an agreement, she would make a ruling.
Ten jurors found him not guilty that day.
Two were still unconvinced. As I would be. Leading me to believe Bayne has killed before.
A woman. One he supposedly loved.
She was found strangled on the couch of his parent’s home. DNA of several people was found on her, but the results were inconclusive, not a perfect match to Bayne.
It’s how he got off.
If he had no trouble killing someone he cared about in cold blood, then got away with the murder, one of a local woman no less…
What’s stopping him from killing me?
Fiona gets up from her seat. “More tea?”
I click the windows closed, looking up at her with a smile. “I’m good. Thanks.”
“You okay?” she asks. “Your face looks flushed.”
“Too much caffeine,” I laugh. “I haven’t gotten used to all the tea yet. My heart is racing.”
She gives me a nod. “Right. I’ll bring you one of those choccy biccys you like instead.”
The first time they offered me a biscuit, I was expecting a southern style one and was so confused when they pulled out a crackling package of cookies. My mouth waters at the idea of the crunchy sweet. “The chocolate biscuits survived the fire?”
“No. The professor picked up some essentials on the way here this morning. He knows we can’t work without treats.”
